


The Price of Freedom

by pterawaters



Category: Glee
Genre: Glee Kink Meme fill, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, M/M, Riding, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-13
Updated: 2012-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 01:13:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterawaters/pseuds/pterawaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt, the famous jewel thief, has been caught red-handed by Officer Puckerman. He buys his freedom the best way he knows how. Fill for the Glee Kink Meme <a href="http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/34234.html?thread=46053050#t46053050">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of Freedom

"C'mon, Officer," Kurt smirks, tugging his wrists as far apart as they'll go with handcuffs holding them together behind his back. "You know you don't have enough evidence against me."

Officer Puckerman scoffs. "Dude, I caught you red handed. The rubies were literally _in your hands_!"

Kurt gives Puckerman a short disbelieving look before snapping his mask of haughty innocence back into place. "Lies." He takes a step toward the officer and coyly tilts his head. "Isn't there any way I could convince you to let me go?"

One edge of his mouth pulling up in a smirk, Puckerman asks, "Like how?"

"There are certain ... _things_ I could give you, Officer," Kurt purrs, leaning closer to Puckerman. "Things I don't even do for my husband. Well, not _often_ , anyway."

"I think," Puckerman replies, grabbing Kurt's chin and holding it tightly, almost painfully, "that you should be more specific, Hummel. I'm gonna get my ass reamed by my Captain if I let you escape. How do I know your 'things' are worth it?"

Kurt pulls his head away until Puckerman releases him and circles him as he says, "I train two hours a day with my gymnastics coach to be able to ... let's say, be able to _acquire_ the items for which I earn such exorbitant fees." Standing behind Puckerman, Kurt presses himself close, puts his chin on Puckerman's shoulder, and whispers in his ear, "I could ride you for twice that long."

Officer Puckerman's shoulder and back muscles tense, but he doesn't waiver. He coughs and asks, "What makes you think I'm interested?"

"You're the one who snuck into my bedroom in the middle of the night and handcuffed me." Kurt tugs on his wrists again, making the chain between the cuffs tinkle. "Tell me that doesn't mean something."

"It doesn't," Puckerman replies gruffly, turning and grabbing Kurt by the front of his tight, black cat burglar's shirt. "I nabbed you here because this was where it was easiest to pin you down."

"Mm," Kurt says, tilting his hips forward so his crotch barely brushes against Puckerman's. "Pin me down, hm? Not something I'm usually into, but I think for you, I'd make an exception. _Officer_."

Puckerman grabs Kurt's hips and jerks them forward to grind his cock against Kurt's. "Tell me, Hummel. What _are_ you usually into?"

"Usually when I'm with my husband, he's the one tied up and I'm," Kurt swivels his hips sinfully slowly before thrusting them forward harshly, "on top."

"Mmm," Puckerman groans, sliding his hands from Kurt's hips to the button on Kurt's fly. "Your husband must be a little weakling, to let you top."

"On the contrary." Kurt wriggles his hips to help Puckerman get his pants down and then off. As the officer pushes up Kurt's stretchy shirt, starting at the bottom, knuckles brushing against his boxer-brief-clad cock, Kurt explains, "He's a big man, with _very_ strong muscles. Only a man like that could take what I have to give." Kurt snaps his hips again, only this time Puck is too far away to grind against.

Puck pushes Kurt's shirt up and over his head, but his hands are cuffed together, so there the shirt stays, looped over his shoulders and under his armpits, across his upper back. As Puck begins shucking his own clothes, he sits down on the bed and asks, "Is this where you fuck your husband? In this bed?"

"The bed." Kurt nods. "The shower, the couch, the kitchen table, up against that dresser. We like to keep things interesting."

"Well, you're not fucking _me_. That's not how I get down." Puck pulls off his last sock and drops it into the pile with the rest of his clothes. He starts pulling Kurt's underwear down, but the thief tsks.

"So we have a deal? Let me go and I'll ride you until you're coming your brains out?" Kurt asks, hips shying away as Puck tries to grab them.

"Ride me," Puck replies, hauling Kurt toward him and ripping down his underwear, "until I'm coming my brains out and _then_ I'll let you go."

Kurt steps out of his underwear, his heavy cock pointing up and out with arousal. "Touché."

Kurt stands, frozen almost, over Puckerman for a long moment, the tips of Puck's fingers pressing into Kurt's hips. Then he jerks his head to one of the bedside tables behind Puck. "Lube and condoms are in there. I'd get them, but..."

Puckerman nods and pushes Kurt until he takes a step back. Carefully not turning his back on Kurt, he steps around the bed to the drawer and pulls out a few items before sitting in the middle of the bed and beckoning Kurt to him. Popping open the lube, he asks, "You want me to take my time?"

"That depends," Kurt says as he carefully mounts the bed and walks over the mattress on his knees to straddle Puckerman's thighs. "How long until your back up gets here?"

Officer Puckerman smirks. "I didn't call for back up. I wanted the glory for taking you down solo." He pours some of the lube onto his fingers and recaps the bottle with a casual grace that says he does this often.

"Too bad you won't – Ahh! – be collaring me today." Kurt says, breath hitching as Puckerman hauls him closer with a strong arm around the small of his back and starts brushing two fingers against his hole. 

"I don't know," Puckerman says, as he slips a finger inside, making Kurt moan softly. "The night's still young." After a few moments watching Kurt's face as he touches Kurt's body, Puckerman says, "You didn't answer me, Hummel. Am I taking my time or not?"

"Oh, take as much time as you can stand!" Kurt cries, pitching forward so his forehead rests on Puck's broad shoulder. His breath blows hot on Puckerman's skin, down and ultimately across his nipple, which tries to take interest, but doesn't quite make it. However, the change of angle makes Kurt's cock bob and dip against Puck's several times in a row, each tiny touch setting him on fire.

When Puckerman adds a second finger, Kurt whispers, "Oh, yes, baby," before flinching and clearing his throat. In a detached tone of voice, so unlike his whisper it's almost disturbing, Kurt says, "Mm, you're good at this, Officer. Here I thought maybe you had a wife at home, but–"

Puckerman cuts him off with a particularly brutal thrust of his fingers. "We're not talking about that."

"Ooh," Kurt breathes, hissing as Puck shoves in a third finger, obviously less interested in taking things slowly than he was a few minutes ago. "Touchy subject? Interesting." Kurt arches up, chasing a better angle. "On the rocks, are we? This why you feel the need to screw your arch nemesis?"

Puck scoffs as he pulls his fingers out and reaches for a condom with his other hand. "What are we, comic book characters, now? And like _you'd_ be my arch nemesis."

Puckerman holds his covered and slicked dick up and away from his body with one hand, using the other to urge Kurt down onto it. As Kurt complies, both men breathe out in tandem, Kurt's exhalation ending with a whispered, "Fuck, baby."

Puckerman slaps Kurt's flank and growls, "I ain't your baby."

"No, of course not," Kurt says, rolling his eyes and then rolling his hips as he finishes his slow descent.

"Unhh," Puckerman groans, arching his body to drive upward into Kurt. "God, go harder. Faster!"

"I thought," Kurt says, finishing a thrust and pulling up again just as slowly, "that you said we have as much time as we want."

"Yeah. Well, I want _faster_!" Puck grabs Kurt's hips in his hands and drives upward half a dozen times in rapid succession, pushing and pulling harshly.

"Officer!" Kurt shouts as he surges upward on his knees so far that Puckerman's cock slips out of his body. "Are you like this in every facet of your life? Pushy and demanding and fucking blind?"

Frowning at the loss of Kurt around him, Puck shakes his head to clear it before asking, "What?"

"I'm saying," Kurt continues, lowering down slowly until Puckerman gets the picture and lines up his dick again, "that you should learn to appreciate the value of taking one's time." His body envelops Puck's cock again, even more slowly this time. "It's no wonder your wife stopped sleeping with you. She did stop, didn't she?"

"Shut the hell up, Hummel. Hard and fast gets me off," Puckerman says, fingers digging into Kurt's hips as he struggles to stay still.

Kurt finishes one long stroke down and as he pulls back up, he replies, "When you go too quickly, you miss out. This way..." He stops just as Puckerman's about to slip out again, changing direction in one fluid motion and sinking down again, "...you hit every _single_ nerve ending. Teasing. Tantalizing. Until that climax you've been avoiding, running from, it catches up to you, leaving you a boneless ... brainless ... puddle of pleasure."

" _Shit_ ," Puckerman hisses, his fingers pressing into Kurt's hips hard enough to bruise. Despite Kurt's tortuously slow pace, Puckerman keeps his ass down against the bed, not even twitching a single thrust upward.

"There you go," Kurt praises, leaning back further. With his hands bound, they're unavailable to support him, so Kurt's abdominal muscles clench and bulge with the effort to keep his torso at that angle.

Puckerman reaches forward and sits up so he can wrap one hand around the back of Kurt's neck, helping hold him up. He uses his other hand to stroke Kurt's cock, pausing briefly to grab the lube and dump a bit over his fingers. "You fuckin' like that?" he asks, his voice rough. "Think I can make you speed up a bit?"

"Never," Kurt groans, arching back against the hand at his neck and thrusting forward into the hand on his cock. If anything Kurt's rising and falling slows. He smiles sweetly, an expression muted by the sweat running down his temples and neck into the shirt still looped around his shoulders. "I'd be willing to speed up a bit if you'd take off these silly cuffs."

Puckerman raises one eyebrow and parrots back, "Never."

"So be it." Kurt readjusts his knees a little wider and keeps his rhythm so steady, one could set a metronome to it. Slow. Even. Skin sliding hot, sweaty, sticky against skin.

Groaning softly every time he's fully sheathed, Puckerman's breath comes just as steadily, just as evenly. Until it doesn't. He holds his breath, his whole body taut, for a moment, and then Puckerman shudders, letting go of Kurt's cock so he doesn't hurt him accidentally as he comes, and comes hard. With his free hand he pulls Kurt's chest close against his and murmurs words he's not supposed to. Words like, "Oh, _fuck_ , honey. Oh, shit. Love – _God_ – I _love_ you!"

The words make Kurt gasp and franticly grind his hips downward until he groans, come bursting forth between them, spreading and melding skin against skin. "Love you, baby," he sighs, leaning his head forward against Noah's shoulder and breathing heavily against his collarbone. "Love you so fucking much."

After a long moment of breathing the same air, Noah pitches them to one side, slipping from Kurt as they rearrange their legs. He rolls onto his stomach and stretches out lazily, groaning, "God, I could sleep for a week after that high-quality sexing, babe!"

"Eh-hem?" Kurt replies, yanking the chain between his cuffs a few times in rapid succession. "A little assistance? _Officer_?"

Noah looks up at his husband blearily for half a second before inhaling sharply and responding, "Oh, right!" He grabs the handcuff key from the bedside table drawer and kisses Kurt as he reaches behind him to undo the cuffs. "You need some of that lotion, Cupcake?"

"Nah," Kurt replies, rubbing each wrist in turn and then offering them up for inspection and a few light kisses. "See? I didn't pull them very hard this time. Just barely any marks." Then he frowns down at his stomach and reaches over Noah to the drawer for a wet wipe or two. By the time he's done, Noah's wiped clean and half asleep, sprawled out on his stomach, so Kurt snuggles up behind him, forehead against the back of Puck's head and arm possessive across Puck's waist. "Thanks for looking the other way this time, Officer Puckerman."

Voice sleepy and low, Puck replies, "I'll get you next time, Hummel. Just you wait."

Kurt chuckles and nestles his top leg between Noah's, quickly getting comfortable enough to fall asleep. In the morning, he notices that though his wrists aren't marked, his hips bear ten fingerprint bruises, all in a cheery, wistful reddish-brown. He smiles and finishes getting ready for work.


End file.
